What I meant to say

My city council recently debated an amendment to their human rights code that would add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to the usual array of race, sex, and religion.

I went to the meeting, and I watched. I watched as people lined up to comment. I watched the crowd as some silently cheered the speakers and others silently moaned. I watched the reporters as the cameras rolled. And suddenly I realized I should do more than just watch. I should speak.

I have to be honest. This amendment had little impact on my life. I’m straight. Whether it passed or failed, the only thing personally at stake was my sense of justice. But that was important enough. In every struggle for equality through history there are some who resist change, some who sit idly by, and some who boldly make a stand. There are a lot of people in my life I cherish who are gay. I would do them all a disservice if I sat idly by. So I timidly made my way to the line of commenters and mentally prepared an impromptu speech.

It was a perfect speech. I was going to single out a member of my family, but then say how singling out one person isn’t fair to the dozens of others who have come into my life. I was going to talk about my experiences in history and museums, and how the debate on gay rights eerily echoes the debate about gender and race of decades past. I was even going to talk about my most recent job, where staff thought it was okay to share gay jokes and make homophobic remarks.

I didn’t do any of that. See, in the museum field I became really good at public speaking. Curators give public presentations, marketing people speak before cameras, docents lead groups through historic sites. At some point in my career, I’ve worn each of those hats. But I’ve always had time to prepare. When I finally reached the podium to address the council, no notes there to guide me, cameras rolling, council members in front of me, a half angry crowd behind me, I completely forgot what I wanted to say.

I felt awful. I let down all the leaders of history I studied so much about. Oh sure, I can do research, write a paper, or curate an exhibition. But when it came time to speaking as confidently as those leaders, I was too scared. Did you know that Martin Luther King’s original draft for the “I Have A Dream” speech does not contain those words? He made them up on the spot. And Monday night, this little city council meeting was too much for me to make up a quick speech.

It’s a moot point now. The amendment failed to pass by one vote. But to the leaders of the past and the people of the present who influenced my life, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be more prepared next time.